Page 37 of Steamy on Set

“Yes you do! And if I hadn’t told Errol those things were your fault, you would have taken this job from me too.”

At a loss for words, I can no longer see the way forward. My disbelief blinds me as she shines her resentment in my face.

“You don’t get it.” She stares off into the distant, her eyes focusing on something far away.

Silence extends between us as I wait for her to speak. When she does finally look back at me, a grimace is set into her mouth.

“Did you ever for once think that maybe I needed to feel special too? I work twice as hard to get half of what you get. I’m tired of people not looking at me the way they look at you.” Her voice sounds sharp and broken.

My anger extinguishes a little bit at her tone. This whole time she has been walking around feeling like she is lesser than me, because of what? Her own belief that she isn’t good enough? The past where I have shined a little brighter? It doesn’t justify her actions, but it makes me feel for her.

“Mira, I’m sorry you feel that way. I have never tried to outshine you. I think you are great, too. And maybe if you focused on what makes you special, you wouldn’t feel the need to compare us. We’re both amazing at different things.”

Expecting a heart-to-heart moment, I’m thrown when she curls her upper lip.

“I don’t need you to patronize me.” With that, she walks off, and opens her front door, showing me the way out.

“You can’t be serious? All I have ever done is be a friend to you.” I refuse to move. I am owed more than just this accusation.

“If this is what friendship is with you, then you can keep it. Please leave.” Her lower lip quivers, and I know she doesn’t want me to be here to see what happens next. I don’t want to be here either, needing to outrun both my sadness and anger.

I swear I can hear glass breaking as I walk over the shattered pieces of our relationship. It doesn’t matter what I do or say now, there is no fixing this. When I’m on the porch, she closes the door without any other words, and I find I don’t have any to offer either. Nothing we ever say will make this okay.

Chapter 15

Pullingupthespanks,I can already feel the pinch of all my rolls being smoothed out as they’re forced into place. If it weren’t for the skin-tight fit of the silk slip dress and the need for perfect tailoring, I would be foregoing this particular type of torture. With the good sense to put on the strappy red heels before I put these on, all that is left to do is get dressed.

“You ready?” Monty screams through the door, impatiently awaiting the reveal. I slide the garment over my head, pushing the light fabric away from my full face of make-up. As it shifts into position, I can already tell I look great just by the feel.

“Okay, here I come.” I dare one last glance in the mirror. Opening the door to Monty’s squeals of delight, I step out so shecan get a better look. The milky pearl color of the dress stands stark against my mahogany skin, highlighting the darker shades of my tone. With my lips the same hue as my shoes, the pop of color breathes life into my otherwise natural look. I’m all set to impress the producers at this party.

“Damn girl.” She claps her hands as I spin around, letting her see all the low-cut draping in the back.

“What do you think of the hair?” Playing with the flip, I second guess the Jessica Rabbit blow out I did in lieu of my natural curls. I lift it so it falls just slightly on to my face, and push the slicked-back side over my shoulder.

“You honestly look fire. Every part,” she says beaming.

I check myself out one last time in the compact I packed in my purse. I thought the excitement of this party would distract me from my fight with Mira, but I still can’t help thinking about her as I take in the look I know she would approve of. I try not to let my grin slip while putting the mirror back in my tiny purse.

Knowing Errol should be here any minute, I take one big breath. I expected him to honk when he arrived, so I’m pleasantly surprised when a knock comes instead. Looking to Monty, her thumbs-up gives me the push I need to open the door.

Under the bright porch light, his umber skin glistens. I fight to keep my mouth from falling open. Dressed in a black suit, the white shirt underneath has three buttons undone at the top, showing his shaved chest. He is wearing a gold necklace that matches the rings on his hand, and his hair is pulled back with two pieces hanging in his face. He looks, honestly, the best I’ve ever seen him.

Finally glancing into his eyes, I’m not surprised to see they’re wide as he takes me in.

“You ready?” he coughs out as he offers his hand to help me down the stairs. Declining it, I use the railing, scared of feeling the way I do every time we touch.

He opens the car door for me, and I try not to swoon at the simple gesture.

“You look good,” I say as he slides in, no longer able to hold back the compliment. He nods, a slight smile coming to his lips as he turns the car on. I wait for him to say it back, but as the minutes stretch on, I’m met with silence instead. Turning to face him, I stare intently until he speaks.

“Thank you.”

Thank you? All he has to say is thank you?Crossing my arms against my chest, I push my lips out in what is undoubtedly a pout. We sit this way in silence for the duration of the drive. He begins to smirk halfway through, and I realize he’s enjoying this.

“Are you really just going to say thank you?” Incapable of holding my tongue, it flaps out my disdain when he pulls up outside of a hotel.

“Mhm.”

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